


Living Nightmare

by Engineer104



Series: Fatalistic Daydream [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gen, Isolation, Outtakes, more like 'enemies to enemies with an understanding'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Lance's isolation doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon, even if he's out of solitary confinement





	Living Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hailqiqi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailqiqi/gifts).



> For my meticulous and patient beta from the Pidge Big Bang, who was especially curious about what happened _here_. hope you like it, Hail!!
> 
> This is an unofficial outtake from the first fic in this series, which you probably definitely should read to understand what's going on

Lance hummed a tune that was popular at home the last time he was there. He muttered the lyrics under his breath, of the princess asleep and waiting to be rescued by her true love. Captured unjustly by her father’s Galra enemies, she slept in a tower guarded by Druids.

But the hero crept ever closer. He was strong enough to slay all the soldiers in his path and clever enough to outsmart the Druids, and in the end he triumphed and saw the princess returned to her throne.

Once, Lance thought himself the hero gone to free worlds from the Galra, but lately he wondered if he had more in common with the princess instead.

There wasn’t much to do in solitary confinement. He couldn’t help being reminded of the timeouts he suffered in childhood, of standing in a corner, punished for some amount of time proportional to his crime. Like then, the bare gray walls boxed him in, but here every morning he woke after a few vargas (the best he could count) of fitful sleep, they felt even closer than when he’d first closed his eyes.

His mementos from home stayed in his regular cell, and he wasn’t allowed any form of entertainment. It was just Lance, an empty space that he could lap in eight steps, his own ripe stench, and the thoughts in his head.

And his voice, of course, but either the door to the solitary cell was made of thicker metal or the guards posted beyond it were more resistant to his needling than Pidge had been.

Pidge…

Lance buried his face in his hands, muffling a groan. Pidge was never far from his mind lately, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, not when an insult to Pidge made his blood boil.

He lifted his head and examined the back of his hand. He hadn’t hit Sergeant Aron hard enough to bruise his knuckles, but if he closed his eyes he could still hear the _crunch_ of his fist connecting with a jaw.

He hit a fellow soldier - a _superior_ of his - because he insulted an enemy guard.

An enemy guard who, against all odds, Lance thought of as a friend.

He ran his fingers through his hair as his heartbeat spiked. He got to his feet and paced the length and width of the solitary cell, counting steps.

_One, two, three, four, five, six_ _…_

On the seventh step, Lance froze, eyes wide as he faced the shut door without seeing it. And he realized that hitting another Altean prisoner would cost him more than it already had.

Isolation, different than he suffered in a solitary cell.

“ _Quiznak_.”

By punching Sergeant Aron, by lashing out at him when he insulted Pidge, Lance had implicitly chosen a Galra soldier over his own race. And when he finally left solitary confinement and returned to his regular routine, the news would spread of _why_.

Lance would be an outcast, a pariah, and his only friend would be Pidge, an infrequent companion and an _enemy_.

A part of Lance wished Hunk was there. Hunk wouldn’t shun him just for daring to be friendly with a guard - though he’d judge him for _how_ friendly.

But no, Hunk was better off as an engineer on an Altean battleship. Lance should’ve been with him, a fighter pilot waiting to be deployed in the midst of an interstellar battle.

Instead he languished as a prisoner of war on an isolated planet, trapped because his family couldn’t afford to pay his ransom.

So much for making them proud.

Lance jumped at a sudden screeching sound, and when he looked up the slot at the top of the cell door was open.

“About time,” he said, forcing a smirk onto his face as a Galra guard peeked in at him.

The guard’s thick black eyebrows furrowed - likely in a scowl, and he said, “Turn around and plant your hands on the wall.”

Lance did as he was told, not fancying the prospect of getting hit just for disobedience. And he figured that the sooner he obeyed, the sooner he could finally flee solitary.

The door creaked open, and two pairs of footsteps entered the small cell. Then rough, furry hands grabbed his wrists and forced his arms behind his back. A pair of handcuffs trapped his hands in place.

Lance grimaced at a sharp pain in his shoulder at the rough handling, but a tic later it abated. He then skittered along when the shorter of the two Galra guards took his arm and tugged him out of the cell, the other following behind with his rifle directed at his back.

He examined his more immediate _escort_ out of the corner of his eye. He thought he recognized his face - a little thinner and less furry than the average Galra, it seemed, as if only part - as belonging to someone he saw with Pidge a few times…

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Anything changed while I was in there?” He smirked. “I bet it wasn’t as exciting without me, huh?”

The guard holding him scowled but didn’t look at him.

“Tough crowd,” Lance observed. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Back to your cell,” he replied.

“Oh, so you _do_ talk.” At a noncommittal grunt, Lance wondered, “How’s Sergeant Aron? I bet he looks worse than I do.”

The guard sighed and grumbled, “Why the _hell_ does Pidge talk to you?”

Lance grinned almost involuntarily, that response delighting him more than he would’ve thought. “He miss me while I was gone?”

This time, the guard showed no reaction except to press his lips together.

“Ah, fine, I guess I’ll find that out for myself.” Lance’s own words both warmed him and filled his stomach with dread.

Soon he’d also learn that his comrades were shunning him because he took the side of an enemy guard.

 _But do we_ really _have to fight?_ Lance thought, frowning. _That book—_

The guard disrupted his thoughts by unceremoniously shoving him through the doorway of his usual cell.

Lance stumbled in, somehow keeping his balance though his wrists were still cuffed together. “So, uh, Corporal whatever-your-name-is—”

“Kogane.”

“Right, Corporal _Kogane_ ,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “Do you mind taking these off?”

He raised an eyebrow when he received no response. Then he glanced over his shoulder to see Corporal Kogane with his back to him.

“You go ahead,” he said to the other guard. “I wanted a dobosh or two to… _talk_ to him.”

The other guard laughed. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Corporal,” he said, patting Kogane on the shoulder. “Just don’t take too long or hurt him _too_ badly; he still has work detail in a few vargas.” He then left, the door to his cell sliding shut behind him and leaving Lance alone with a Galra soldier that now looked very, _very_ angry.

Lance swallowed, heart pounding. He’d seen a few prisoners roughed up by guards, and the ones that dared defend themselves always ended up in solitary confinement.

As Corporal Kogane approached him, hands curled into fists, Lance blurted, “If you’re going to hit me, can you at least give me a chance to defend myself?” He shrugged and shook his cuffs. “It won’t exactly be a fair fight if you don’t take these off.”

Kogane crossed his arms. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lance retorted. “Then why are you here? To warn me about fighting other prisoners?”

“No.”

“Huh, well, I guess if you’re friends with Pidge _he_ could’ve sent you, though I don’t know why he wouldn’t have come himself…” Lance smiled hopefully at Kogane. “How _is_ Pidge?”

“He’s fine,” Kogane said, tone curt, “no thanks to you.”

“So where’s—”

Kogane slammed his fist into the wall, cutting Lance off and startling him. “Why are you interested in Pidge?”

Lance blinked at him. “Because…he’s a friend?”

Kogane snorted. “Right,” he said, “because you had _friendship_ on your mind when you first spoke to Pidge.”

“Well, maybe not _then_ ,” Lance conceded with a sheepish smile, something like regret making his heart heavy, “but I do now.”

Kogane narrowed his eyes at Lance. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should!” He scowled, growing angry. Why was it Corporal Kogane’s business anyway? “I might’ve just given up my connections with my own _people_ in defense of Pidge, so don’t think that for one second”—he tried to raise a hand to prod him in the chest only to remember that his wrists were still bound—”I don’t care about him!”

Lance glared at Kogane, breath heavy and heart pounding, waiting for him to respond.

But Corporal Kogane only stared at him for a few long tics. Then he stepped closer to Lance, backing him into the wall both with the speed of his step and the force of his gaze.

“If you _do_ care about Pidge,” he said, voice pitched low, “you’ll pretend that you don’t.”

Lance opened his mouth to retort, but Kogane continued:

“This little _friendship_ you have - no matter your _real_ intentions - is risky for her, because not only is she hiding her gender, but—”

Lance’s mind ground to a stunned halt.

“Wait, _she_?”

Kogane’s eyes widened, and he moved away, holding his hands up. “I said _he_.”

“No you didn’t!” Lance said, gaping at him. “Is Pidge a—”

“Shh!” Kogane glanced over his shoulder as if half-expecting someone to be hovering over him, eavesdropping. Then he rounded on Lance and said, “Tell no one!”

Lance shook his head, trying to recover from his shock as all his perceptions of Pidge rearranged themselves. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Good.” Kogane nodded curtly. “Just…if you _do_ care about… _him_ , you won’t draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”

Lance held his gaze, heart sinking as he took in Corporal Kogane’s words.

Pidge…was a woman working at a men’s prison. No wonder he - or _she_ \- was prettier than all the other Galra guards put together!

But there was something else, something that Corporal Kogane almost mentioned but didn’t. What _else_ was Pidge hiding?

(Why would a Galra woman enlist as a man and carry around an Altean book?)

Whatever it was put her in danger if Corporal Kogane - her _friend_ \- went so far as to warn Lance about it. And Lance wouldn’t - _couldn_ _’t_ \- be the one to draw more unwanted attention towards Pidge.

His chest ached as he considered what he had to do, but then he nodded at Kogane. “Got it.”

“Good,” said Kogane, flashing a fleeting, relieved smile.

Without another word, he turned and slipped out of the door, which slid shut again behind him.

Lance stared after him without really seeing the door, too busy frowning and contemplating the dread already filling him. He’d never _meant_ to befriend Pidge - not for _real_ \- but now…

His cuffs finally fell off and landed with a clatter on the floor of his cell. He sat on his cot and reached into that narrow space between the thin mattress and the wall to tug Pidge’s book from its hiding place.

He’d give this back to her next time he saw her. It was the least he could do and would serve to sever the tie between them.

(But if only it could be that easy.)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~proofreading is for the losers who don't post fic in the middle of the night~~


End file.
